Amidst an epidemic of superficiality sweeping through the world of songwriting, Noah Kahan’s “23” stands out as a poignant track that grapples with the pain of watching a loved one/friend struggle with addiction contrasted by the pain of longing for a past version of them. The powerful chorus, descriptive imagery, and emotionally-packed lyrics balance the deeply human desire to love someone who has changed so drastically, along with the need to stay away and maintain sanity.
The song begins by characterizing the addict/loved one as hypocritical and detestable yet inescapable and somewhat idolized, using juxtaposed lyrics like “preachin’ about sin over lines of cocaine” and “Even when you’re not here it becomes about you.” “23” seems to address some indistinguishable fraternal figure in Kahan’s life due to details such as, “you stand over half a foot taller than me”. This introduction to their relationship, however, is followed by the hard truth of abuse and how the writer was “naive to believe you would come back and see…if I could finally take you.”
Once the stage is set and the trauma laid out, Kahan punches the audience in the gut with a chorus contrasting greatly from the original song’s tone. Within these repeated lyrics the resentment and anger that was slowly building up, suddenly unleashes with the phrase, “Oh, I’ll beat your ass til’ the morning.” The singer’s avoidance of conflict up to this point seems to be the cause of this bent up explosion of anger as he says “You know I’ve been running all this time…Sprinting my way past your bedroom…Lifting the weight of you off my mind.” The latter part of these lyrics is where the writer identifies with listeners. By describing his avoidance as the lifting of a weight, a release, and a sort of new found freedom, Noah Kahan indirectly emphasizes the struggle with past trauma and hurt inflicted by the anonymous character.
Later, the singer-songwriter dives even further into the already complex tension with the line “Cause if I never see you again you can be anything I want…23, clean, in the engine heat…teaching me how the thing works.” This descriptive imagery of a nostalgic moment between Kahan and the character further strengthens the emotional weight of the song. The concept of almost wishing someone had stayed absent from one’s life or had passed away seems incredulous and at the same time, so thoroughly human. Kahan is grieving the death of someone who is still alive in the physical but whose actions and recklessness have led to the death of the person they once were. Despite his anger towards the character addressed, Kahan reflects nostalgically on how life used to be before the addiction, again adding to the contrasting fondness that he still feels.
In track 10 of Noah Kahan’s new album, the writer recognizes the impact of addiction on his family and individual safety; how it feels to love someone who will not change; and the need to protect oneself and preserve the few positive memories remaining through distancing, both physically and psychologically. “23” is just one memorable, expertly crafted, and impressively complex song within Noah Kahan’s 21-track album, “the Great Divide.” The album is now available to stream on most music platforms and his record can be purchased both online as well as in Target stores.
